


Lost in Translation

by Swordy



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: First Dates, Fluff and Humor, M/M, POV Alternating, it’s no fun if everything goes right
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-26
Updated: 2018-12-26
Packaged: 2019-09-28 03:27:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,667
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17174969
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Swordy/pseuds/Swordy
Summary: Noct persuades Ignis and Gladio to go on a date. It’s just a movie - so what could possibly go wrong?





	Lost in Translation

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Sauronix](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sauronix/gifts).



> Written as a Christmas gift for my good friend Sauronix. Thank you for being you, hon and may 2019 see more of your wonderful talents in this fandom. <3

“I don’t know.”

Ignis says it, each word equally weighted with hesitation. He studies his hands for a moment until glancing up to find himself being watched closely. When he doesn’t say anything else, Noct rolls his eyes.

“What reason have you got to say no? You find him attractive don’t you?”

“Absolutely.” He colours slightly, because it’s fair to say he’s given Gladio's physical qualities some considerable thought.

“And you _know_ he’s a decent guy.”

“Indisputable.”

“So what’s the problem?” Noct repeats.

The problem is, well, Gladio is _Gladio_. Kind, funny, brave, intelligent Gladio. It’s not just Gladio’s looks that make his heart beat a little faster when he thinks about the other man, and although he knows he shares a lot of these admirable traits, Gladio just seems... well, out of his league.

“Specs? You in there?”

Noct can be so enthusiastic—quixotic, even—at times. Usually when it’s something that will serve as a distraction from his courtly duties. Or the essay on Solheim he’s supposed to be writing. Problem is, once he’s on one of these flights of fancy, it can be very difficult to get him to disembark. Ignis sighs.

“Whilst I'd be lying if I said I wasn’t curious as to mine and Gladio's compatibility, it’s impossible to escape the reality that it could complicate things given that we're both in service to the crown.”

Noct rolls his eyes even harder at that, confirming that he _can_ make a tremendous effort when he puts his mind to something.

“Yeah, see? I think that’s just an excuse. Besides, it’s M.E. Seven _Fifty-Five_ , Specs. Times have changed.”

“I’m well aware what year it is,” Ignis replies stiffly, wondering if he can steer the conversation back to the topic of the essay Noct is pointedly not writing and away from the subject of his own pusillanimity. “But I still think there are considerations that need to be made before either of us embark on something that could make our situations with regards to you a problem.”

“It’s _one_ date, Ignis. Anyway, you’re the one always telling me to try new things.”

“I hardly think a conversation we had once on the subject of _vegetables_ can be used as a valid counter argument in this instance, Noct.”

Noct shrugs, undaunted. “You always say use any weapon at your disposal.”

He does say that, doesn't he? “Fine. I’ll ask him. But on the condition that this conversation ends now and you knuckle down and finish that essay.”

Noct grins, brandishing his pen. “For you, Specs? I’ll write the best damned essay you’ve ever read.”

Ignis huffs a sigh, a wistful glance towards his empty coffee cup. “Hope springs eternal,” he mutters under his breath.

“Huh?”

“Nothing.”

OoOoO

“I dunno...”

Gladio blows out a long breath and then shakes his head for emphasis. He and Noct are jogging around the citadel's sports track. There are a few other groups of runners out, simply because Gladio's not yet convinced Noct to get up early enough to miss the crowds. Noct's fitness is definitely improving - he can now run at _least_ ten laps before his complaints start to sound a little breathless.

“I don’t get what the problem is,” Noct huffs, keeping pace with Gladio as much as it might pain him to do so. “You told me you nearly asked him out before.”

Yeah... he’s still not entirely sure why he told Noct that. The damn kid's got this way of paying attention at precisely the wrong moment and then storing what he’s heard away for when it might prove useful. Maybe he _will_ make a decent monarch one day, after all.

“And I _told_ you back then that it was a shitty idea.”

“Why?”

Goddamnit. Gladio finds himself longing for the days when Noct would be doubled up, hands on his knees and swearing like a Crownsguard soldier about what a _miserable asshole_ Gladio is for making him do exercise. At least he wouldn’t be trying to fix Gladio's love life, which admittedly is in something of a sorry state.

He stops abruptly and Noct does too. After a moment, he meets that curious gaze, knowing Noct's not gonna let it drop until he gets some kind of answer.

“Ignis is...” He waves a hand helplessly. May as well just come right out and say it. “He's out of my league, okay?”

He’s expecting Noct to laugh. What he’s _not_ expecting is a frown, like he’s just said something ridiculous.

“Your league? Gladio, what the hell are you talking about? You’re probably the only one _in_ Specs' league.”

His response is delayed by the need to appreciate the compliment Noct is giving him, because for all the shit they give each other like a bickering pair of brothers, they love each other fiercely. Noct has got a similar relationship with Ignis, and if they know each other as well as he and Noct do, then Noct surely wouldn’t be sending him down a blind alley by encouraging him to ask Ignis out.

“Okay.”

Noct looks up at him, eyes widening slightly. Wariness gives way to relief.

“You'll fix up a date?”

“I’ll fix up a date. But you’re doin' another ten laps.”

“ _What_?”

“Get moving or I’m making it twenty.”

OoOoO

Gladio writes and rewrites the message more times than he cares to count. He’s on version _no fucking clue but there are definitely zeros involved_ when his phone pings with an incoming message, and he abandons his own efforts to see what it is. His insides do something funny when he realises it’s from Ignis.

_Hello Gladio. My apologies if this comes out of the blue, but I was wondering if you'd care to catch a movie with me next week?_

For a moment he stares, trying to parse the sentence. Is Ignis...? He needs to check before his imagination runs away with him completely.

_Like... as in a date?_

Fortunately, the response comes through immediately: _Yes_

He shouldn’t be surprised—Noct is encouraging them to get together so it’s not beyond the realms of possibility that Ignis would initiate contact, especially if Noct's been operating the same hard-sell tactics on him too. It occurs to him that he should reply before Ignis mistakenly reads anything into the silence. He types:

_I’d like that. When you thinking?_

He hits send and, barely thirty seconds later:

_Friday night?_

So he sends back: _Perfect. Anything in particular you’d like to watch?_

The next message doesn’t come through quite as quickly, although the ellipsis appear a couple of times underneath his last message. He waits, drumming his fingers on his thigh until Ignis's next message pops up.

_There's a movie called Internal Affairs I wouldn’t mind seeing, but I can appreciate it’s probably not to everyone's tastes, so by all means suggest something else._

Gladio's never heard of it, but Ignis almost certainly has excellent taste so he’s good with whatever Internal Affairs may be. He texts back quickly: _I’ll get the tickets. Meet you out front at 8?_

The reply when it comes through moments later makes him smile.

_It’s a date._

OoOoO

Ignis glances at the growing pile of clothes on his bed with a frown. Maybe the wine-coloured shirt wasn’t a bad choice after all. Then again, they’re going to the cinema so maybe Gladio will have dressed casually and their mismatched attires might give the date an unnecessary awkwardness. With a sigh, he returns to his closet to begin the process all over again. Aside from when he’s in his formal Crownsguard uniform Gladio dresses for comfort, so he should do likewise.

He pulls out a henley, creased from always being relegated to the back of his closet. Similarly, it takes a moment to find the pair of jeans he knows are in here. They’re soft and faded—that way by design rather than through regular wear—but with the henley and and equally soft black leather jacket he finally feels like he's in an outfit that shows there’s more to him than his usual stiff formality.

“I look fine,” he tells his reflection once the outfit is ironed and donned. He ignores that dissonant clang that says otherwise, that he should wear something more _him_. This is for Gladio, for his tastes. He wants to look like the kind of man Gladio wants.

OoOoO

He’s not tense. Okay, maybe a little tense. Gladio stops fingering the movie tickets in his jacket pocket and pulls out his phone as the taxi accelerates away from the junction. He’s still expecting a text to say Ignis has changed his mind, scarcely able to believe that this is happening at all. It’s too hot. He should have worn a t-shirt, or just anything less constricting than this stupid shirt Iris picked out for him. At least she'd grudgingly conceded that a tie was too much. _It’s Ignis_ , she’d said after she’d busybodied her way into his bedroom and looked so scandalised about what he was planning to wear that he’d agreed to let her help chose his outfit. _He always looks so smart. You can’t turn up looking like you’ve just come from the gym, Gladdy._

Although he didn’t think his clothes had looked that bad, he’d allowed her to stay and give her opinion, until he'd found himself dressed in a smart shirt and trousers, polished shoes rather than boots.

 _We're only going to the cinema_ , he’d said as she’d pronounced him ready, but the scandalised look returned.

 _It’s Ignis_ , she’d then repeated like those words were, and would always be, answer enough.

Maybe she’s right. After all, Iris has always been a smart kid.

But he still hates the shirt.

OoOoO

Ignis scans the crowds outside the movie theatre. He’s early—he’s _always_ early—so Gladio's not necessarily going to be here. And yet, weaving through the evening traffic on the sidewalk is the man in question, and _oh gods_.... Gladio looks amazing—let’s get that out of the way first. Whilst it’s true to say Gladio's physical appeal is beyond compare regardless of what he’s wearing, this evening he looks incredible. Day to day, Gladio clearly dresses for function and comfort—understandable really when his role has such a big physical component—so it’s rare to see him in anything other than practical clothing. But tonight... Ignis tries and fails to recall a time when he’s seen Gladio dressed this way before. He likes it, but there’s also a significant downside, as his discomfort with his own choice of outfit resurfaces with a vengeance.

Schooling the anxiety from his expression, he finds a smile just as Gladio notices him. Because he’s watching, Ignis sees the way Gladio's eyes widen ever so slightly just before he smiles too. _Astrals_ , it’s his clothes, definitely. Why didn’t he opt for smart? Now Gladio thinks he hasn’t bothered making any effort.

“Hey,” Gladio says as he gets within conversational distance. “You look amazing.”

His hands instinctively fly to his chest, a self-conscious action that only draws more attention to his clothing.

“Oh, uh, thank you.” Heat rises to his cheeks. He prays Gladio doesn’t notice. “But I believe you’re far more deserving of that compliment.”

Gladio almost immediately copies the chest-patting gesture and ducks his head. “Yeah, thanks. Iris insisted on styling me before I left the house.”

“Well, I think you look great.”

Gladio's smile grows into something less embarrassed, but doesn’t say anything. Wonderful—now he’s caused a strained silence. After a moment of awkward shuffling, Gladio gestures to the door and says, “shall we?”

OoOoO

Ignis looks seriously fucking hot. In all the years they’ve known each other, Gladio's never seen him in denim— shit, he didn’t even know Ignis _owned_ a pair of jeans. Right now, trailing after Ignis into the cinema complex, he wants to suggest that he wear them more often because they fit him like a goddamned _dream_.

Fuck, he’s out of his depth.

Perspiration prickles at his armpits. Silently he curses Iris and her choice of outfits for him, because he'd feel less like an overdressed idiot if he’d worn his usual clothes. He jams his hands into his pockets and finds the tickets in there, his fingers absently smoothing over the paper. It’ll be okay. Movies require silence so it won’t be as obvious once they’re in the theatre. Ahead of him, Ignis turns, his expression expectant. Shit, was he talking?

“Sorry, what?”

Ignis adjusts his glasses, which is both cute as hell and really distracting. “I said would you care for some refreshments? My shout since you purchased the tickets.”

“Oh, uh, sure. Soda?”

Ignis nods, reaching into his jacket for his wallet. “Anything else? Any popcorn?”

It’s impossible not to visualise them sharing a bucket, fingers meeting accidentally, locking eyes and laughing softly in the darkened theatre. Shit, it’s not like he’s not imagined that scenario a billion times since Ignis first suggested they catch a movie together.

“You choose,” he replies, trying to sound casual. “I’m totally easy.”

And, oh fuck wasn’t _that_ smooth? Ignis gives him a funny look, like he’s trying to figure out if that was a joke or maybe a little date night innuendo.

“Popcorn it is then,” Ignis answers smoothly, as if that last sentence had never existed.

Once Ignis has turned to face the attendant, Gladio lets out a long breath and drags a hand across his face. Crap. Is he gonna put his foot in it every time he opens his mouth? This is gonna be a long-ass night if he does.

Ignis rejoins him and they move away from the lines of people waiting to buy snacks. He accepts the bucket of popcorn, and resists stuffing a handful straight into his mouth. It always makes Iris laugh when he does it, but would hardly send out the right signals to someone as sophisticated as Ignis.

“Have you got the tickets?”

Gladio digs in his pocket and pulls them out. They're a little crumpled and the print is slightly faded where he’s been worrying them with his fingers.

“Uh, screen three,” he says by way of answer, nodding towards their destination.

The attendant barely spares them a glance as they approach. He's too engrossed in conversation with a female member of staff, who's leaning on a metal dustpan, a large, bulging refuse sack at her feet as she smiles at whatever it is he’s saying. She looks pretty engrossed herself, and Gladio envies how relaxed they seem as the attendant hands the tickets back and gestures for them to go through.

OoOoO

As they enter the theatre, the lights dim as if on cue. Ignis leads the way; they don’t have seats reserved, but there are only a couple of other people in here so they choose a row towards the back and edge along it until they’re central with the screen. He’s quite surprised to find the theatre so empty—the movie he’d suggested only came out a few days earlier and is a big budget action thriller so he’d expected the place to be busier.

They take their seats and Gladio places the popcorn into the holder between them. Ignis hands him one of the sodas, flashing Gladio a quick, shy smile as their shoulders bump as they settle back at the same time. He’s about to say something, but then the trailers start and they find themselves catapulted between genres as the studios attempt to entice them back with their upcoming features.

Ignis drifts, conscious of the warm, solid body beside him. What will they do when the movie is over? It’ll be late, but not _too_ late, so a drink perhaps? His apartment is only ten minutes' walk away so he could invite Gladio there. Too cliched? Too forward? At least he’s got a couple of hours before he has to decide what to do.

With the trailers over, the movie finally starts. A few more people have filtered into the theatre including a distinguished-looking gentleman who sits down on the end of their row, but it's still mostly empty as the screen fades into desolate landscape. He’s already starting to have his doubts, but then the title card appears, written in a language he thinks is Galahdian. That might explain the lack of patrons, at any rate. He glances over at Gladio to see if there’s some kind of mistake, but Gladio's gaze is fixed squarely on the screen, listening to the narration that’s now started.

Also in Galahdian.

To be fair, he only _suggested_  they could watch  _Internal Affairs_ , so it’s entirely possible that Gladio simply didn’t want to see it and chose this movie for them instead. He should try to pay attention, otherwise he’ll have no idea what’s going on.

Twenty minutes in he’s still none the wiser. After the credits opened on that empty landscape, the action (for want of a better word) quickly moved to a large, wood-panelled meeting room and has remained there ever since. From what Ignis can gather, judging by the characters' uniforms, they’ve joined some tense political negotiations, the exchanges flying back and forth at break-neck speed. He knows a little Galahdian, but not even remotely enough to follow this dialogue-heavy drama.

Gladio looks deeply engrossed, which makes Ignis feel worse.

OoOoO

What the actual _fuck_ is going on?

Gladio daren't look away because the last thing he wants is to walk away from this movie Ignis really wanted to see and have no idea what it was actually about. He pictures them both over coffee, Ignis talking about how amazing it was, his eyes and his gestures growing more animated as he speaks. And he’ll be nodding and murmuring vague agreements because how does he say that he had no idea what was going on for large parts of it, and the bits he maybe understood seemed pretentious and boring? Fuck, Ignis is gonna wonder why he agreed to go out with him at all.

He manages to sneak a look at Ignis—a quick one, mind, because otherwise he’s gonna be even more in the dark over what the characters are talking about if he’s not paying attention to their non-verbal cues—but Ignis obviously catches the movement and their eyes meet. Iggy's solemn expression breaks to a smile, which he teams with a quick thumbs up. And reflexively Gladio mirrors both the smile and the gesture before they both turn to look at the screen once more.

At least Ignis thinks he’s enjoying it.

OoOoO

For the life of him, he can’t understand how Gladio is enjoying this movie. It’s bloody _awful_. Logically, he knows he’s being unfair—it’s impossible to get the true measure of something when you only understand one word in ten. The main issue is that it casts doubt on his compatibility with Gladio, who evidently consumes subjects like this happily and assumes Ignis is similarly inclined. Maybe... maybe if he can sneak his phone out of his pocket, then he can Moogle the synopsis and have a vague idea about what’s going on. Or maybe just find out how much longer he’s stuck here for.

Fortunately his phone is in his right hand pocket, furthest from Gladio who's sitting on his left. He manages to slip it free from his jacket, tilting it so that when he wakes the screen it won’t be too obvious. With that accomplished, he keys in his passcode and flicks over the slider to reduce the brightness to its lowest setting, stealing another glance to check Gladio hasn’t noticed. With the coast clear, he navigates to Moogle and types in the name of the movie that appeared in the opening credits.

The search results include a synopsis and assorted links to movie review websites, which seem to be fairly unanimous in their condemnation. The run time is listed with other stats on the search page, furnishing him with the terrible news that he’s got approximately another two hours to sit through. The most simultaneously interesting and depressing thing he reads is that the story is told solely through meetings between the two warring factions, a move that has been heralded by the critics as both inventive and suicidal. _Astrals_...

He’s so lost in this frankly staggering fact that he doesn’t realise that Gladio is looking at him. Rumbled. With a sigh, he decides honesty is the best policy and he opens the notes app and starts to type.

_I’m so sorry Gladio. I just wanted to find out what the film's about. I was trying to do it subtly. I didn’t mean to disturb you._

He turns the handset to Gladio who reads the message and frowns at it. Wonderful. Now Gladio's annoyed with him. After a moment, Gladio takes the phone off him and starts to type underneath his message. When he’s done, Ignis takes it back, pulse quickening slightly.

_Hey no, don’t apologise! I was just wondering why you were needing to look stuff up. With you saying you really wanted to watch it, I thought you’d have known what it was about._

Now it’s Ignis's turn to frown. Gladio thinks this was the movie he wanted to watch? He accepts his phone from Gladio and ponders a reply, his fingers hovering over the keypad for a few seconds first.

_There must be some mistake. The movie I suggested we watch was called Internal Affairs._

If possible, Gladio’s frown deepens. He gestures for the phone.

_Is this not Internal Affairs????_

How can Gladio...? Ah. The movie title was in Galahdian. He types:

_According to Moogle, the title of this movie translates as 'The Meeting Room'._

Gladio snorts loudly as he takes the phone back. _No kidding? I’m glad it’s called that otherwise I might have missed the meeting part._

Ignis stifles a laugh, not entirely successfully. Beyond him, the distinguished gentleman fires a glare in their direction. Quickly, Ignis types a new message.

_Can you speak Galahdian?_

_Not really. Just a few swear words. And I can order a beer._

_The important stuff_ , Ignis answers, smiling. Gladio takes the phone back off him.

_You?_

_Pretty much the same. I thought at one point one of them was complaining that he had a frog in his bidet, but in hindsight I think that might have been a translation error on my part._

Now Gladio does laugh, the sound exploding from him despite his best efforts. He claps a hand over his mouth as the man further down the row shakes his head and mutters 'really'. Ignis attempts an apologetic smile, then returns his attention to the string of messages to add one more.

_I think we should probably go..._

He meets Gladio's gaze and the relief is unmistakable. They stand up together and leave their seats, deliberately exiting via the other end of the row so they don’t have to pass the man currently glaring daggers at them both.

OoOoO

They burst into the foyer and at this point Gladio gives in to the urge to laugh. He can barely see Ignis for tears, but fortunately Ignis also appears to be finding it equally funny. It’s almost a full minute before they get themselves under control.

“ _A frog in his bidet_?!” Gladio gasps, on the verge of setting off laughing all over again. “Where the hell'd you get that from?”

“I’m not sure,” Ignis admits. “I sincerely doubt the movie will ever reach _that_ level of excitement anyway, so I think we were best to cut our losses.”

“Oh gods, I’m so sorry, Iggy,” he says, the words leaving his mouth before he realises he’s let slip the nickname he’s never been brave enough to use. Ignis doesn’t say anything, but he smiles at him in a way that makes Gladio's stomach flip. “I dunno how that happened. I definitely booked tickets for _Internal Affairs_.”

On a whim he digs in his pocket and fishes out the crumpled tickets.

“See? Internal Affairs, screen three.”

Ignis studies the presented slips of paper. He frowns and leans in closer.

“I think maybe... it says screen eight?”

“ _What_?”

“I might be wrong,”Ignis says hastily, “but the way the ink has rubbed off in parts.... it could be an eight rather than a three?”

Gladio looks, then swaps the second ticket so that it’s on top. On this one the ink has faded in different places. Yup, definitely an eight. He slaps a hand to his forehead.

“Shit... so we've just spent an hour sitting in the wrong movie?”

Ignis adjusts his glasses, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “It appears so.”

Gladio shakes his head. “I didn’t know anything about the movie you mentioned other than the title. I just assumed we were in the right theatre and that was the one you’d wanted to see.”

“And I assumed you’d not wanted to see my choice and selected that for us instead.”

“Awesome,” Gladio replies rolling his eyes. He shakes his head. “So I overdressed _and_ brought you to the wrong movie.”

Ignis studies him for a moment, his eyes crinkling at the side as he smiles. “I don’t think you overdressed at all; if anything, _I’m_ the one who dressed incorrectly.” He plucks at the henley. “I thought I should try and show you another side of me, but all that’s happened is I’ve now spent every minute since we met worrying that you think I haven’t made an effort, and by that token think me not interested in you.”

Gladio frowns. Ignis always sounds so sure of himself it’s crazy to hear him talk about him having pre-date nerves.

“How could I _not_ be interested in you? If you wanna know the truth, I wanted to ask you out ages ago, but I could never work up the courage. Noct suggested I should, but I never thought you’d be interested in me, not really.”

“And yet you’ve also been in my affections for so long, and I never acted on it for the same reasons,” Ignis replies wistfully. “How ironic that our similarities were the one thing keeping us apart.”

Gladio chuckles, scarcely able to believe what he’s hearing. “We really screwed this up, didn’t we?”

Ignis makes a show of considering the question. “I believe that’s an accurate assessment of the situation.” Behind his lenses, his eyes are warm and genuine. “How about we start again? Gladio, would you be interested in going out with me sometime?”

Gladio laughs, his cheeks stretched he's grinning so hard. “Yeah, I reckon that sounds like something I’d be interested in doing. What are you doing, uh, right now?”

“I believe I have a window in my schedule.”

“Yeah? Awesome. Anything in particular you’d like to do?”

“Well... despite our surroundings and _Internal Affairs_ presumably being somewhat easier to follow than a movie in a language neither of us speak, I fear we might have missed some crucial plot points by now, and I think one incomprehensible movie is enough for tonight.”

“True,” Gladio concedes, and _damn_ , he still can't stop smiling. “So what do you suggest instead?”

Ignis gives him a look which borders on shy, but he still extends his hand in invitation. “A drink, perhaps? Somewhere we can chat and get to know each other a little better so that our next date goes a little more smoothly?”

“Yeah, that definitely sounds like a plan,” Gladio replies, entwining their fingers together.

They fall into step, shoulder to shoulder as they exit the cinema and join the Friday night crowds on the street outside. Ignis's hand is soft and warm, but his grip is firm - in short, it’s just how Gladio predicted it would be. Maybe some of the other things he's imagined about Ignis will turn out to be right after all. He certainly hopes so, but more than that, he’s excited that he’s finally getting the opportunity to find out.

  
**End**

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


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